the everyman memoirs

It’s birthday month. I love birthday month, but it takes a toll. On my waistline. Take that with a grain of salt though, because I’m one of those fortunate (unfortunate?) waifs who seem to be just as waif-like despite my diet. You’d think it’s a blessing, which it is, but it’s doing nothing for my 2017 effort to bulk up a little in the muscle department. Every day I look at my scrawny, shapeless arms and think, “And I’m drinking nasty protein shakes for THIS???”

The point of this was not to talk about my pointless gym membership. The point was to tell you that there’s an entire birthday cake in my fridge right now. And that I will begin eating said cake now that the first cake has been consumed. Both of these cakes were gifted to me by gracious, loving friends, and I try to still think of them as gracious and loving even when they force me to do things like eat a dinner of red velvet with cream cheese frosting followed by a dessert of half a candy bar and brownies. I mean, it’s bad, people. The other night I ate a S’mores cupcake for dinner. The cupcake incident, which is pictured above and which went down in my gym parking lot, was tough to pull off in my car, while reading a book, with no napkins (when I was done I opened the car door and proceeded to rub my sticky hands together until the sticky seemed spread out enough to let me turn the page without leaving any smudges). And then I grabbed my gym bag and went inside to the 6pm body pump class. You could say I’m just not understanding the concept of what’s required to be fit. I say, it’s Birthday Month.